


I'm Breathing In and I'm Breathing Out

by MaeveElemora



Series: Treading on a Wire Laced with Kerosene and Fire [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, I try to write some sweet simple fluff, Oh also, and Ori just laughs at me, its not anything severe but it is there so be warned loves, this was SUPPOSED to be a comfort fic but these two literally never behave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 04:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20221822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveElemora/pseuds/MaeveElemora
Summary: “See?” Oh fuck, oh fuck, ohfuck a duck,that smile of hers is all the way to her eyes now, and that thumb moving across the back of his neck is making his blood rush in his ears. “That shit right there is why I run myself ragged to get back to your mug. With you, I can breathe. I cansleep.I can feel like I’m not so fucking hollow.""You're not hollow," he mumbles against her lips. "You're full of so much fuckin' light it's blinding."--This started as a soft, sleepy, G rated comfort drabble. Orion Clarke is an uncontrollable delinquent who won't even listen to her ownauthorso it ended up being a 4k word first time fic.





	I'm Breathing In and I'm Breathing Out

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd and I've only read through it once, so apologies in advance for any mistakes.
> 
> Series and fic title are both from the song Solo by Oh Wonder, which is what I listened to while writing. Highly recommend for reading this to. The series will most likely just be one shots of these two, since I'm lazy and multi-chapter fics are 2hard4me.

Ori has plenty of places to lay her head. You can’t walk more than a mile in any direction these days without seeing one of her hand painted flags waving proud. She's got an all access pass to the jackboot outposts and synth runner hidey-holes. Fuck knows the woman's never struggled with turning rotting, prewar ruins into a safe room for a night.

Yeah, Ori isn’t hurting for an unclaimed bed. Has at least a hundred better options than a sagging mattress in an ancient statehouse. There’s gangsters and addicts and freaks that just won’t fit in anywhere else making an ungodly racket at all hours of the day and night, and these walls of his ain’t exactly insulated. But she still comes here, sometimes from the opposite ends of the 'wealth. He can tell from the bags under her eyes and the extra weight in her duffel that she does it without stopping.

“Why?” Hancock finally asks her one night. He’s pretty desperate to kick his own ass the second the word leaves his mouth. _Smooth, dipshit. Make her feel unwelcome why dontcha._

“Why what?” There’s a winded edge to her tone, the kind that only comes with a tired that goes all the way to your marrow, and he wants to drop the topic so fuckin’ bad. But he knows her, knows she won’t let him. He pulls out one of the blunts he keeps locked up in a drawer just for her, pretends to concentrate real hard on lighting it up for her to buy himself some time. He puts it up to her lips, hoping it conveys how much he wants her here before he opens his big, dumb mouth.

“You got a lot of options, s'all. Tryna figure out why you run yourself ragged just to share smoke with a mug like this.”

She doesn’t look all that offended, thankfully. Just puts her forehead against his, all soft and gentle, as she shotguns her hit into his mouth. He’d be lying through his fuckin’ teeth if he said this little habit of hers didn’t still make his skin tingle, even after all these months.

“You’re my safe spot, John.”

He takes the blunt up to his own mouth, because fuck he’s gonna need another hit after hearing _that_ from _her_. He keeps with the stalling routine by pulling in all the way to lung capacity. She’s right there waiting for his exhale, only this time her hand moves to the back of his neck. He can feel her top lip brushing against his collapsed own and it’s giving him a goddamn coronary.

He’s got every intention of making some smartass comment about her standards of safety, hell, anything to break the moment, but he can’t for the life of him get his mouth to stop being a fucking turncoat.

“Why?”

_For. Fucks. Sake. At **least** come up with a different word, fuckface._

She’s a fuckin’ saint, is what she is, for not looking at him like he’s finally lost the last marble.

“You’ve never asked anything of me. Not once.” He tries to interrupt her at that, but she pushes his hand back up to his mouth to stop him. He takes the hint and inhales for another pass between them. “That Pickman creep? I asked for the work, and you had no clue what was doin’. And that shit with Bobby? _You_ apologized to _me_ when I accidentally tried to rob you.”

He laughs at that, a shaky little thing that probably gives off way to much about how he’s feeling, but it makes her smile in return. Fuck him sideways, there’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for that smile.

“I don't sleep right without you at my six.” Her smile tuns wistful, and more than a little worn. “I get night terrors. Shit from my past, shit going on now. It all jumps me in my sleep, and waking up screaming gets you killed real fuckin' quick these days. Power naps while I'm sitting upright is about the only way I can prevent them. Not doing me any favors in the rest department, though.”

His chest tightens at that, for all sorts of scattered and conflicting reasons. He hates it when she goes out without him. It's not anything possessive, he's not the type to try to cage someone, he just can't stand that resigned set to her shoulders when she goes out to solve everyone else's problems. He understands why he can't be there when she's chasing shadows with Deacon, or when she's trying to reconnect the Paladin with reality, but goddamn the knowledge doesn't loosen the knots in his gut.

He wants to be there with her. For her.

“You shoulda told me, sunshine. I get I can't be there for your top secret shit, but you know I'm willing to make myself scarce. You need me to park my ass on a roof while you handle your business, say the word. I can play gargoyle until it's time for you to get some shuteye.”

About time his mouth let him say something halfway to intelligent.

“See?” Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck a duck_ that smile of hers is all the way to her eyes now, and that thumb moving across the back of his neck is making his blood rush in his ears. “That shit right there is why I run myself ragged to get back to your mug. With you, I can breathe. I can _sleep_. I can feel like I’m not so fucking hollow."

"You're not hollow," he mumbles against her lips. "You're full of so much fuckin' light it's blinding."

She lets out a little exhale of laughter through her nose that glides across both their mouths. Her free hand comes up to intertwine with the one on the back of his neck. "That why you call me sunshine?"

He lets her take the next pull, pointedly ignoring the way the view of her cheeks hollowing moves his blood. "Yes, ma'am. Knew it the second I saw you."

"You mean when you stabbed your best skirmisher to defend my fragile, prewar honor?" She's teasing him now, and not just with the jab at his chivalry, though it completely figures her first verbal foreplay would be reminiscing on him impaling a guy. Her chin is tipped up now, the angle bringing their mouths completely against each other, but she's not making a move to seal the deal.

"Ori," he warns, his mind so gone he can't even remember what her jab was. "You're fuckin' _killing_ me here."

She doesn't reply immediately, just hooks her leg around his hip and pulls him flush against her. And wouldn't you know, he fits damn near perfect like this; on his knees between her legs, his hands trembling and anxious as he moves them up her thighs.

"Funny, considering you're what keeps me going."

Her voice is so goddamn low, and it feels like it's racing past his lips, down his chest, and straight to his cock. Goddamn her, he's never been this off balance over someone before. He's clinging to the last tethers of his sanity, anything he's got left to put together a comeback to prove he's still Hancock, Commonwealth's original hoodlum.

"Bold claim there, sunshine. When'd that start?"

She's got a wicked smirk forming on her face as she reaches down for the discarded blunt next to her leg. It only gets wider as she raises it between them to encourage him to take another hit.

"The second I fell in love with you."

The smoke laced air leaves his lungs all at once. Not a cough, more like a knock to the ribs, leaving him winded. Whatever flirtation he'd expected, it hadn't been that. It _absofuckinglutely_ figures she'd go all in with the first confession. No toe-dipping tests of the waters, not for Orion Clarke. All or nothing with her. Always.

"Come on now, you can't actually wa--"

"If you're about to try some worthiness shit with me, you can shove it, John." She pulls back enough to hit him with a pointed look. "You're the best thing I've _ever_ had. Prewar, postwar, doesn't matter. Nothing compares to what you do for me." Her lips curve up in another smirk and her eyes take a nice little stroll down the length of him. "Nothing compares to what you do _to_ me."

He's growling, he _knows_ he's growling, and he knows it probably sounds fucking ridiculous, but he can't stop it as he pulls her in for a kiss. It's not the sweet, chivalrous kind of first kiss he's been daydreaming about having with her, because she's his sunshine and goddammit she deserves some soft and sweet. No, this is the kind of first kiss that comes up in his wet dreams and in his locked door, Me Time fantasies he's been having since he quit touring. This is her tongue moving around his, her lip between his teeth, her ass in his palms, the crotch of her leathers pressed right up against his cock. This is every fucking things he needs.

Until a small, needy little thing of a moan comes up her throat for the first time and he decides that yeah, okay, _that_ is what he needs the most. More of that. Way more of that. Louder, and needier, and a whole lot of _right the fuck now_.

"Need you to lay back for me, sunshine," he says against her lips, using the break in the kiss to move his own lips down to her neck.

"Only if you're coming with me, John." He's already mentally prepared for the fact that he's probably going to come in his fuckin' pants for this next part, but if her voice gets any breathier he won't even last long enough to get his head between her thighs.

"Oh, I'll get there, don't you worry about that." It's a crime that he's not taking the time to appreciate the view now that he's got her shirt off and has started in on her leathers, but he'll pay his debts to society later. "Right now I need you to be a good girl for me and lay back."

She falls back on to her elbows with an honest to God whimper, confirming his long held suspicion that she's got a praise kink a mile wide.

_Gonna take full advantage of **that** knowledge, thank you very much. _

"Lift those gorgeous hips for me, I need these leathers off you _now_." She tries to protest, making a grab for the ruffled shirt he's still got on, but he's having none of it. "Not gonna ask twice, sunshine." She bites her lip at that, eyes pleading and desperate, but complies.

"You always gonna order me around like this in bed?" she asks, head falling back as he pulls her boots and leathers off.

"In bed, against the wall, over my desk, over _your_ desk. Anywhere I can get you."

"Always think you're so fuckin' cute, Jo--_OHN_!"

Hand to God, he can't decide what's better; the way he's just made her voice crack, or finally having the taste of her on his tongue.

There's not an ounce of hesitation in his movements now. This is his girl, his sunshine, and she _loves_ him just like he loves her. And he's gonna make her cum harder than she ever has in her life, goddammit. He doesn't bother with subtlety, just goes straight for her clit with broad strokes, immediately following up with quick, tight circles. He holds back on sucking it between his teeth, wanting to save it for the kill shot. He bides his time by bringing up his middle finger to run up and down the rest of her slit, getting it nice and coated before sliding it home.

"Oh!" she cries out. "Fu-uck! John, baby, fuck I'm--! You gotta--I'm so fucking--angel _please_."

He knows he shouldn't take all the credit. People make her too uncomfortable for hookups, and a private moment is real hard to find with her schedule, but still. It's a massive stroke to his ego that she's already this close to edge. If he were a gentleman, or maybe feeling strong enough to tease, he'd drag it out. He'd back off and get his tongue acquainted with her lips, work her nice and slow with his finger. But he's not a gentleman. He's a weak man that's been dreaming of hearing, and feeling, and tasting her cum on his tongue since the day she walked into his town.

He starts up the growl again, this time with purpose, and sucks her clit between his teeth, his tongue moving around it as fast as he can manage. His index finger joins his middle and he curls them both, going straight for her g-spot. He's rewarded with her hand latching onto the back of his head, her back arching fucking _beautifully_. Her cunt squeezes tight as a fist around his fingers and her thighs press against his ears, but its still not enough to block out the sound her shouting his name.

He slows his roll as she comes down from the high, his only movement being the slow, steady stroke of his tongue around her clit to pull out the last of the aftershocks. It takes her a few moments to get her breath back, and she's still got a slight twitching in her legs when she finally speaks up.

"John, c'mere." She pulls on the collar of his shirt, tries to spread her legs to give him room to move.

"Not done with my meal yet, sunshine." He follows up his words with a determined swipe around his fingers, still knuckle deep inside her.

"_Please_, angel. Need you up here."

"Not sure when you decided on that nickname," he says on an exhale, shifting onto his feet so he can finally start getting his own clothes off, "but goddamn I could get used to hearing it."

She smiles up at him, all pride and love and arousal as she crawls backwards to move her legs up onto the bed. "Took me a while to decide on it, if I'm being honest. But it's the only one that feels like it fits you."

Hancock barks out a laugh. "Only you could walk into a town like this and give a man like me a name like that." He kicks his pants off to the side and drops himself into her embrace, arms snaking behind her back as her legs wrap around his waist.

"Only you could make me feel this safe," she murmurs, her lips making their way down his jaw. "Need you in me, John." She bites at his pulse point and it makes his hips buck against her, the shaft of his cock rubbing against her _very_ wet slit, making them both groan. "Need you to _fuck_ me, angel."

"Don't mean to be a buzzkill here, sunshine, but I'm not gonna last all that long right now." _Hell, I'm not sure I'm gonna last long enough to actually get **in** you_.

Ori moves her lips up to his ear, licking up the length of the fused edge. "I'm gonna show you a magic trick, John. Fastest guaranteed way to get me to cum."

"Exactly how tired are you? Because I definitely already used that particular zone to my advantage earlier."

"You pressed your advantage alright," she chuckles, head falling back onto the mattress to lock eyes with him again. "But that's not what I'm talking about."

"Enlighten me, then."

Rather than a vocal description, she pulls one of his arms out from under her and reaches for his hand. There's no sign of nervousness in her expression as she moves it to her neck.

It damn near knocks the breath out of him. Again.

With anyone else, this wouldn't be a Thing. It's not all that high up on the list of what passes for kinky these days. Hell, most of the people John's been with have needed that edge of adrenaline just to get the job done. It comes with the territory of being a drifter. But this is different, so fucking different, because this is _Ori_. How many talks have they had about her discomfort with people? Yeah, sure, she's a huger, and she's got no issue with casual or comforting touch with her friends or the people she saves. But anything past that makes skin crawl and her fight or flight kick in.

Now here she is, all comfort and confidence as she's wrapping his fingers around her throat.

"You, uh, you sure about this, Ori?"

"M'not asking to have my windpipe crushed or anything. Just want that little buzz, wanna feel like I'm at your mercy."

Fuckin' A, his mouth feels way to dry all of a sudden. "I thought that was the whole problem with your thing about people."

"That's kind of the point," she laughs, but her expression takes on a seriousness to it. "I trust you, John. The trust is what gets me off, because I can't put that kind of trust in anyone else. Plus the endorphin rush is bitchin'."

They share knowing smirks, and he leans down to kiss her nice and thorough again. "Anything you want, sunshine. S'long as you tap me if it gets to be too much."

"Yeah, yeah," she groans, grinding her slit up and down his cock. "Just fuck me already."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckles, taking himself in hand and slowly pushing into her. There's an adjustment period, she's a tiny little thing and didn't exactly give him a lot of time to get her stretched for him. But she's relaxed and dripping onto his bed, so it's not long before the too-tight feeling lets up and he feels like he can start moving without hurting her.

"You good?" he asks, still insisting on hearing it straight from her first.

"Y-eah. Fuck--yeah I'm good." Her head falls back, stretching out her neck, and he unconsciously pulls out and thrusts _hard_ back in, head swimming with the feel of her and the knowledge of what she wants him to _do_ to her. "_Oh fuck!_ Yeah, yeah more of that, _please_."

Anything for his sunshine.

His movements are slow, deliberate. He knows she's never been with a ghoul before, so he plays to his strengths. He moves himself nice and slow against her walls, making sure she feels every ridge and vein. She's a squirmier, lifting her hips up to grind herself against him, no doubt trying to goad him into picking up the pace. But he's determined to drag this out, to make it a cherished moment for both of them, to make sure he doesn't embarrass himself--

"I knew you'd feel good--god, _fuck_\--I knew. Dreamed about it for so fucking long. But fuck, fuck, holy fuck you feel so much fucking better than I thought, angel. So much fucking better."

Yeah. Yeah, okay. The dragging it out thing might have to wait it's fucking turn.

"I'm so not gonna fuckin' last with you sounding like that, sunshine."

Ori's movements get even more desperate at his words, and she pulls at his hand to bring it back up to her throat. "Don't want you to last. Wanna to feel you lose it, wanna feel you fucking fill me, John, baby, please."

"Yes--fucking--ma'am," he growls, abandoning all pretense of restraint and fucking his girl, his sunshine, his love, hard and fast.

He flexes his fingers against her throat, not even gripping yet, and her eyes flutter closed. "_Yesss_, please, angel, please."

_Definitely going to have to explore this begging side later._

They haven't talked this out near enough to jump right into cutting off her air, so he sticks to the shallow end. He keeps his fingers just under her jaw, focuses on pressing against her pulse to restrict her her blood flow more than her actual breathing. It seems to do the trick, though, and he notices that she's holding her breath all on her own as he pushes them both towards the edge.

"Look at me, sunshine. Wanna see you lookin' right into my eyes when I make you cum."

Her eyes snap open and lock with his, and it's apparently the last little push that she needs. Her fingers squeeze around his first, making him tighten his grip on her throat just enough to cut off the first sounds of her orgasm. She lets go a second later and he follows suit, dropping his hand next to her head to keep himself upright as he feels himself cum inside her. He keeps his eyes open the whole time, drinking in the sight of her riding that wave of endorphins, caught halfway between moaning and gasping for air.

She pulls him down and kisses him through her aftershocks, murmuring the hottest little noises of contentment into his mouth. He gives himself over to the afterglow, riding out the cool down with her until his common sense finally gets the better of him. He pulls out with a groan, and her disapproving moan does a fuckin' number on him. But he's gotta do this now, before they risk any real damage.

He somehow makes it over to his locked drawer stash, despite how wobbly his legs are. He grabs a bottle of Rad-X, a can of purified, and another blunt as an afterthought. There's a slight frown on her face as he makes his way back to her.

"You're gonna give a girl a complex, walking away that fast." She sounds exhausted and well-fucked, but there's a vulnerable edge to her voice.

"Hey now," he says, dropping the haul onto the bed next to her so he can cup her face with both hands. "Didn't mean anything by it, sunshine. Just trying to make sure I don't get you sick."

When all she does in return is give him a look of confusion, he pulls up the bottle of Rad-X. "Some smoothskins are more sensitive to it than others. Don't wanna take any risks with you."

Ori sits up and takes the bottle into her own hands, staring at the label. She's silent long enough that he starts getting nervous. Maybe it's finally settling in, who--what she's sleeping with. Scratching an itch is one thing, facing the idea that your partner could unintentionally kill you with their bodily fluids is a whole--

"So the allergy test for this is having you cum on my face and seeing what happens, right?"

Holy fuck. He really, really loves this woman.

  
\---

  
The sun's not even over the horizon the next morning when Ori and Hancock make their way out of the town gate, hand in hand. They've each got a duffel on their back and a steaming thermos in the hands that aren't intertwined, the latter courtesy of Daisy.

"Too fuckin' early for anyone to be functioning," Hancock grumbles before taking a throat-scalding gulp of the fresh coffee.

Ori laughs next to him, looking unfairly beautiful for an hour this ungodly. "We could always do another allergy test." She gives him a sultry wink. "Might change your tune a bit."

"So that's how you're gonna play today, huh?" He leans down for a kiss, reveling in the way she immediately moves to press herself against him.

"Public indecency comes with a fine of up to $300 and possible jail time, you know."

Ori pulls back from Hancock to nail Deacon with a playful glare as the spy walks over to them. "What, you run out of Proust and move on to Massachusetts legislature?"

Deacon lowers his shades just enough to give her a judgmental look. "One of us has to pretend to be an upstanding citizen."

"Freak boy."

The spy waggles his eyebrows at her before moving his attention over to Hancock. "How's it hangin', Mr. Mayor?"

"Happily worn out, thanks to my favorite constellation," Hancock replies, smiling wide at the sound of Ori's snort.

Deacon lets out a snort of his own, then motions his chin in the direction of Hancock's duffel. "You going somewhere?"

"He's coming with us," Ori interrupts, a determined and slightly challenging set to her posture. "The Death Bunnies have a new sidekick. Meet the Gargoyle."

There's a moment of tense silence. To his credit, Deacon doesn't let any internal debate show on his face. But Hancock knows the score. Letting him anywhere near the shit they get into is a big security risk. Hancock knows he can be trusted, but that's not something that can be relied on in a business like this. On the flip side, Ori is without a doubt their biggest and best asset. Can't risk alienating her at a time like this. So it comes down to whether or not Deacon trusts Ori's judgement enough to risk the organization.

"Dammit, Ori. The Death Bunnies are _sacred_. Sacred! You can't just go revealing our secret identity without consulting with me first. There are traditions to be upheld."

Ori rolls her eyes, tugging on Hancock's coat to get him to start walking with her. "As co-owner of the Death Bunnies LLC, I can reveal myself to whomever I damn well please."

And just like that, the moment's broken. Hancock smiles to himself, taking another big swig of coffee as Ori and Deacon continue to banter. He knows he'll end up spending a lot of time alone and out of sight on these runs with them, but the knowledge sits just fine alongside the idea of being there to give her the piece of mind she needs.

The blinding, eye-crinkling smile she gives him when he starts humming _You Are My Sunshine_ as they make their way over the bridge to Bunker Hill is all the conformation a guy like him could ever need.

**Author's Note:**

> So I debated whether I wanted the final scene to be with Deacon or Danse. While Ori slowly but surely undoing Maxson's brainwashing and convincing Danse to cut the racist shit will no doubt be way more rewarding, I wanted this fic to have a fluffy, loving ending rather than a headstrong against the world feel. Odds are I'll end up writing the scene eventually, but alas. This was only supposed to be a tiny little thing to write as a pick me up that turned into this smut monstrosity, so ya girl was ready to be done.
> 
> Feedback, suggestions, and requests are always welcome <3


End file.
